


And They Were Roommates

by Nitzer



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Roommates, Texting, blonde hoshi and woozi, everyone is gay bc that's just how college is, jeongcheol is mentioned, mentioned/referenced sex and sex jokes, part meetcute and part making myself laugh, plenty of bad words, seoksoon bromance, this has gotten so out of hand i think it qualifies as a slow burn now, title is taken from that vine lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 17:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13346436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nitzer/pseuds/Nitzer
Summary: "Jihoon was a nightmare of a roommate and a challenge I absolutely loved. I loved any challenge. Especially the challenge of making him smile."or hoshi and woozi are college roommates and both of them are bad at communicating in completely different ways





	1. a mutual friend and a coffee date

**Author's Note:**

> here are some ships that are mentioned in this chapter bc i didn't really wanna tag them: jeongcheol, former fwb/fuck-buddies soonhan (is that their ship name? anyway i mean hoshi/jeonghan) and very lightly implied, one-sided whatever we wanna call hoshi/key from shinee

Jihoon was a nightmare of a roommate. An absolute nightmare of snippy comments, of locking himself in his room and banging some part of his body on the doorframe whenever he came home late and waking me up with muttered curses. He was a challenge, though. And I _loved_ challenges. I loved the challenge of making choreography for the younger kids at the dance studio. I loved the challenge of freestyling rap with Chan and Hansol (even though I sucked and they always laughed at me). I loved the challenge of karaoke with Seokmin (even though it rarely stayed a challenge and usually ended with us screeching with laughter on the bench instead of singing). And I really, really especially loved the challenge of Jihoon.

He was not only a challenge. He was a _rewarding_ challenge. And after months of exasperated sighs and harsh glares and his mouth set in a tight, unmovable line I got a sunny, little smile out of him and never felt more accomplished, more _rewarded_.

It was a smile of such quality (though I might’ve been biased because of all the work I had to put in to get even a fond sigh out of him). I never could’ve expected to get something so bright and sunny and _cute_ out of the tight-lipped, little grump I first met. Chan introduced us…kinda. I had been complaining to the kid about needing to move out of the dorms finally and how I needed a roommate and how I would totally ask Seokmin and have like totally cool adventures and shit with him but he was a baby still (a whole year younger than me) and he didn’t wanna move out yet. And the kid, despite being too young to be friends with me or any of my friends really (except maybe Hansol but like I think Chan and Hansol were friends with each other more than either were friends with me), was the one who had the solution to my roommate problem. And, like, I totally should’ve expected it because even though Chan was a freshman he was the most reliable and responsible friend I had and I would absolutely put my life in his hands.

His solution was a tiny junior that he took some music classes with and befriended with their mutual annoyance with Jeonghan (who was friends with everyone, I swear). Chan was the kind of friend who even set us up to meet each other just to see if this whole roommate thing could ever possibly work out. I mean officially meet each other. I’d seen Jihoon before, usually just a quick flash of blond at a party somewhere. The closest I ever got to him was through Jeonghan. He had dragged Jihoon to a party somehow and was staying glued to his side for most of the night (unusual for the social butterfly that was Jeonghan) so I had to get within Jihoon’s sightlines to get Jeonghan to leave with me or follow me to some room because I was desperately missing hands on me and I had that kind of arrangement with Jeonghan still, back then. Jihoon made menacing eye contact with me but neither of us said anything before I got Jeonghan away.

Chan pointed both of us to a quiet café near the library. He fussed over me and gave me a ton of instructions—“Please for the _love of god_ , don’t have any caffeine while you’re there…or before you’re there,” and “Jihoon is a good guy but he gets annoyed pretty easily so like don’t hold it against him,” and “If you want this to work you gotta chill for once in your life,”—making it sound like a blind date or my only chance to get a roommate. Which it wasn’t. I mean Seokmin wasn’t moving out any time soon and neither was Chan (and I probably wouldn’t be his first choice for a roommate even if he was) and Jeonghan was already living with (and basically married to) Seungcheol and Jun used his sweet, sweet acting and modeling money to live alone but that was just the people I already knew. There was a whole, wide world out there outside of this tiny, grumpy junior looking to move out too.

I followed Chan’s directions, though, because they sounded like a challenge and Chan was already overly-familiar with how much I loved a challenge. Especially after all of our tipsy dance battles and ill-advised rap battles and trying to get Jeonghan to love one of us more (it was always, _always_ Chan even back when I could still suck his dick to get on his good side). So I was waiting in the café still in my dance practice clothes, sipping on a hot chocolate piled with whipped cream and scrolling through Twitter, shockingly not late for once.

Jihoon appears, looking tired and ragged and holding the biggest cup of black, black, black coffee I’ve ever seen. “Soonyoung?” He asks.

“Jihoon?” I confirm.

He slides into the table across from me and gives me a relieved smile. “Chan told me to look for the blond.”

I’m self-conscious about my hair for a second and notice the similarities between us, the newly-blond hair and the small eyes but his roots are darker and longer than mine and I remember his hair being chalked up with nice pastels in the past. “Yeah, I just dyed it.”

He blows his hair out of his eyes, looking annoyed. “Don’t get used to it. You’ll fry your hair.”

His hair looks soft and not fried and I have to consciously stop myself from reaching out and touching it because I’m touchy by nature and all my friends are so used to it and it’s been a while since I was with anyone whose boundaries I didn’t know. I don’t wanna fuck up the first impression, you know.

He gives me the most practical peek into his life I’ve ever seen. He’s a music production major and sometimes he has weird hours for projects and he’s allergic to cats and he’s polite and almost professional and I can’t believe it. When I met Jeonghan I was drunk at a party and I cried in front of him because I thought his hair was so pretty. And when I met Seokmin (in a psychology class I don’t think either of us really should’ve been taking) I somehow ended up telling him about the time in high school that I stripped at a party because they played a Nicki Minaj song and he countered me with a story of being banned from his high school talent shows because he sang a dirty song in English and then pretended to not know what it said afterwards. None of my relationships have started with a mutual friend and a coffee date before.

“This feels kinda like a date.” I laugh to myself after we exchange introductions.

Jihoon’s face tightens into something unpleasant. “I’m not looking for anything like _that_.” He says uncomfortably. “If that’s what you’re trying to get.”

I wasn’t. I wasn’t even trying to and I feel like I’ve overstepped some boundaries because I’ve never been good at feeling them out and I’m a stupid idiot. “No!” I correct him. “No, I’m sorry, that’s not what I want at all.” The idea of living with a significant other makes me feel tight and restrained. And it hasn’t been _that_ long since Jeonghan ended our little arrangement and I was still waiting for that cute TA in my dance class (Kibum I think?) to figure out that I was very, very interested. All I wanted from Jihoon was to pay half the rent, honestly.

I haven’t fucked everything up irreversibly I guess because Jihoon still gives me his number when we leave the café. And he spends the next few weeks texting me links to apartments up for rent and sending me addresses to meet him for open houses. The whole thing feels strangely and uncomfortably intimate and domestic so much that I keep texting Seokmin distressed emojis and begging him to move out with me. He’s sympathetic for about five seconds before he just starts laughing at my pain and telling me to move in with Jeonghan and Seungcheol (and I _can’t_ because Jeonghan is kind of my ex and also I never wanna interfere with anyone’s honeymoon stage).

And a month into doing weirdly intimate things with Jihoon (like visiting open houses and agreeing on what furniture we can share and what to move) but barely feeling close to him at all we both sign a lease for an apartment close to campus.

That’s when the _challenge_ of Jihoon really becomes apparent. He’s professional still and cold and distant, still, a ghost around the apartment more than anything else. It’s awkward, painfully so. Living with someone who barely makes small talk with you should be considered a circle of hell. I feel like I’m caught in the middle of nasty divorce and I don’t even _know_ Jihoon yet.

I’m determined to experience at least some warmth, some sort of relationship with Jihoon before being relegated to the cold, cold distance we have. If we’re getting divorced we must’ve had a honeymoon at some point (not like Jeonghan and Seungcheol but just like…any kind of happiness). So the challenge begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also hmu at angelinmyheartt.tumblr.com if you want or if you can definitively tell me who hoshi's fave member of shinee is


	2. the soup meltdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new pairings that are mentioned in this chapter that i won't be tagging: some pretty major chansol and whatever we wanna call one-sided woozi/baekhyun from exo  
> italics mean texting

Even before the challenge of Jihoon really started, I knew this wasn’t like a Chan challenged or a Seokmin challenge or even a drunk Jeonghan challenge (“Come on, show the party your hip thrusts, you’ve been working really hard on them,”). It wasn’t something I should just jump straight in or go straight for. It’d be a slow-burn kind of challenge. I’d have to ease my way into Jihoon’s good graces. 

So I start small. I make soup one morning when I only have dance practice and no classes because soup was good and easy and was honestly my staple meal all of college. I shoved the soup in the fridge and left a little note for Jihoon, _made some extra soup if you want some :) <3_. I figured one smiley face and one heart was absolutely reasonable for a peace offering and headed off to dance practice.

I don’t even _see_ Jihoon that day. And I don’t bother knocking on his door because everything is deathly silent and he is either the quietest motherfucker I have ever met or asleep or gone. I don’t even hear him come in at night (if he ever left). But not seeing, not hearing, not sensing his presence in any way isn’t unusual for the time I’ve spent with Jihoon. And I don’t wanna hold it against him or anything. I’m out a lot too. It’s just incompatible schedules.

A week later the soup has not been touched and I’m also not touching the soup out of some misdirected sense of…something. That one psych class I took was only good for meeting Seokmin and I didn’t retain anything about people from it. If I did I’d probably be better at dealing with this Jihoon challenge.

I make it two more days before I eat all the soup in one frustrated and pouty go which is a _mistake_. I’m a fucking idiot. No one should eat that much soup ever. I don’t even know what I was doing it for. To piss off Jihoon, I guess, but he never even touched the fucking soup so why would he care that it’s gone.

_jihoon is a big, stupid asshole and i hate living with him_ , I text Seokmin once I have recovered from my soup mistake.

_what’d he do?_

_he didn’t eat my soup >:(_

_ah yes, a high transgression, maybe he just doesn’t like soup???_

_> :(_

I send him the angry face because I know he’s mocking me and also because I’m mad that he totally might be on to something. But also I’m not a great cook and I’m basically relegated to what comes frozen at the supermarket, take out and soup. So I revise Seokmin’s advice to maybe he just doesn’t like _this_ type of soup. I can’t blame him either, I usually just throw whatever in and I put a ton of ginger in this time because everyone I know is getting sick and I’m trying to avoid it. Maybe he just doesn’t like ginger.

I give it about two more days to really flush all the bitter feelings from the first failed soup experiment out of my system before I try again. This time I have to clear out time in my schedule and have to pretend to be as casual as possible about it still. Not that hiding things from Jihoon is hard because I barely ever see him and even though I have his number the conversation hasn’t updated since we moved in.

This time I go with regular old chicken noodle soup because it’s a classic and everyone is getting sick still and everyone likes chicken noodle soup. _Made chicken noodle soup this time b/c of flu season :) make sure not to get sick <3 <3_. I add the second heart almost in desperation like I can add enough smiley faces and hearts to make Jihoon like me. I stick the note neatly against the counter and rush off to a class I’m probably going to be late to.

It’s three days later and the soup still hasn’t been touched. I’m still working on not being bitter this time. It’s reasonable to leave it alone for three days, to have other meals planned out, to not be able to eat at home. Maybe Jihoon really just doesn’t like soup.

I’m distracting myself with a music appreciation paper on the couch when the unthinkable happens—Jihoon walks through the door and I am there to witness it. I’m so shocked that I don’t even know what to mention. I finally have the chance to see Jihoon, to know he lives with me, to _talk_ to him and my mind is blank. “Hey,” escapes my mouth, breathless and stunned and hopefully not as obviously shocked as I feel.

He seems shocked to see me too. I’m usually still at the dance studio at this point but I skipped out on helping to coach the younger kids because Kibum was out for some reason and I wasn’t as enamored with his substitute. “What’s up?” He responds and it doesn’t feel like an invitation for conversation but I take it anyway.

I wanna ask him why he hates me, why he agreed to move in with me when he so obviously hates me, why he won’t eat my _goddamned_ soup, if he even likes soup, why he always keeps his door closed, why he never talks to me. But my brain is so overwhelmed with remembering that Jihoon is a real ass person that I live with and not just some trophy I’m trying to win that none of those things come out. “Didn’t your hair used to be pink?” Is the only sentence that my brain strings together instead.

He seems just as perplexed at the question as I am. His hand reaches up to touch the still-blond hair like it’ll hold the answer to the question or why I even bothered asking the question. “For a little bit, yeah.”

I nodded and tried to play it off as cool. “I think I remember seeing you at parties before but your hair was pink.” I explain.

He nods. “Yeah, Jeonghan would drag me out sometimes. I’m not really a party kinda person, though.” Jihoon is too quick and evasive for my stupid brain though because he is slipping back into his room before I can ask anything else, all his stuff neatly put away and all traces of him hidden once again.

It’s a week after I made the second soup and it’s still untouched and I have to accept that Jihoon just doesn’t like soup or that he doesn’t like me. It’s months into living with him and I only know what he doesn’t like: soup, me and parties. I text Chan in defeat, _jihoon hates me and he never talks to me and he also hates soup (b/c i keep making him soup and he won’t eat it) and like i give up, what does he like?_

_uuuhhhh shit_  
_idk really lol_  
 _we don’t really hang out outside of class stuff_  
 _he’s really funny tho!_  
 _he likes uhh…coffee and music_  
 _and oh! he really liked this senior that used to tutor him before he graduated…Baekhyun i think?_  
 _anyway he’s totally in love with Baekhyun and i don’t think he’s ever getting over it lol_

_you’re just gonna sell him out like that?  
but also like ty! ty a whole bunch!_

_i tell every other dancer i meet about your thing for Kibum (including my parents lol) :p_

_the disrespect from this kid_

I appreciate Chan (as I always do) but the information isn’t as helpful as I was hoping for. I know Jihoon likes music. I know from our first meeting and the fact that he’s a music production major and the stuff I can sometimes hear trickling out from his room. And I know that he likes coffee from all the take out cups that are always in the trash and the industrial-sized container of instant coffee he keeps in the pantry and all the fancier whole beans and cold brews he keeps in the fridge. That’s the only impression I have of him.

I try the coffee angle, though, because it seems the easiest. I’m usually not allowed to drink coffee (it’s not just an order from Chan that first time I met Jihoon), Chan and Seokmin and Seungkwan and even fucking Hansol all agreed that I was “annoying enough” without the caffeine. And I hated coffee, honestly, and usually powered through late assignments and last-minute cramming with candy and sweets instead of coffee. So it really was a whole new world to me.

I go to the campus café early one morning and order the biggest cold brew they have and add nothing to it because Chan leaked Jihoon’s usual coffee order to me earlier. I head back to the apartment on my way to the dance studio and leave the drink of the counter with the note, _they messed up my coffee order this morning so I got this one for free :D it’s yours if you want <3 I know you like coffee <3 :D_. The smilies and hearts might have been excessive but I was going for friendly and approachable (might’ve overshot that though).

When I get back from the studio, the coffee and the note are gone but there’s no note in its place and I don’t have any messages from Jihoon either and his door is tightly closed and the apartment is deathly silent. He took my offering for once, so I guess that was something but it really didn’t feel like much. Coffee feels like the right direction, though, so I just take it a step further.

I take Hansol to the fancy tea and coffee shop in the mall, bribing him with whatever coffee he wants. Not that I should _have_ to bribe him, we’re _friends_ and I wouldn’t have to bribe _Chan_. But I need Hansol because he’s the only friend I have that really likes coffee and I need his input. He picks out something that smells way too strong and I can’t stand and is more expensive than I think coffee can be. Jihoon is turning out to be an expensive experiment, an expensive challenge.

I leave the coffee in the pantry with the other whole beans Jihoon has and leave a note on the counter, _my mom sent me some coffee for exams but I don’t really drink it so you can have some <3 <3 <3_. It’s a lie and I don’t think the hearts make the lie any more convincing. I just feel like Jihoon prefers casual affairs and I don’t wanna tell him that I spend an ungodly amount trying to just _talk_ to him, to ease some tension we have. So I continue to act like the whole thing is coincidence and happenstance and not me actively trying to make a space for myself in Jihoon’s life.

The coffee goes untouched. At least until I open it and try it one night out of part desperation to stay awake for a project and part curiosity. I mean with what I paid for it, it _has_ to be better than what I got at cafes normally. It wasn’t. It was bitter and too strong and I hated it. And I swear some of it goes missing the next day but I can’t prove it in any way. And Jihoon still doesn’t talk about it so even if he did take some it doesn’t mean anything.

I reach peak desperation and call Jeonghan because he can drag Jihoon to parties so he must have some insight into how Jihoon works. “Jeonghan,” I whine once I hear the phone pick up.

“Charming.” Jeonghan deadpans.

“I give up. I’ve like literally given up.” I whine, still whining.

“On what? What could Soonyoung possibly be giving up on?” I could hear him shuffling with something in the background. “I’ve never seen you give up on anything, except like school.” Something dropped on his end. “Are you _dropping out_?” He shrieked.

“No!” I assured him. “It’s Jihoon, I’m giving up on Jihoon.”

Jeonghan tsked. “He’s a sweet kid, don’t give up on him.”

“’Sweet kid’.” I mocked. “He’s my age, Jeonghan.”

“You’re a sweet kid too.” He joked.

“We’ve had sex before, Jeonghan.”

He laughed, all gasping and out of control. “But like seriously don’t give up on Jihoon, he’s just bad with people sometimes. He’s worth the effort.”

“I’ve tried _everything_!” I groaned. “I keep making him food and buying him drinks and leaving him notes in the morning and I never even see him at home and he doesn’t answer my texts! And like this whole thing is a bust, he hates me and I give up!”

“He’s just shy and awkward!” Jeonghan argued.

“Well then how do you get on his good side? What does he like? How do you drag him to parties?”

“I don’t really know what he likes.” He laughed. “Coffee? Music? I don’t know if he really likes me.”

“He probably only puts up with you because you’re pretty?” I supply.

“I was literally just going to say that but like I think he does like me? Honestly, the only reason he ever came to parties was to make sure that I didn’t choke on my own vomit and die. He was like my adorable little, almost designated driver.” He sounds pleased with himself. “He only stopped going with me when I met Seungcheol because then there was someone else to make sure I didn’t die at parties.”

“What about me?” I feigned hurt.

“You would’ve choked on your own vomit and died before I even got a chance to get to the party and your death would’ve been much more embarrassing than anything I could’ve managed.” He huffed. “Jihoon is a sweetheart, really. Don’t give up on him.”

“What do I do then?”

Jeonghan hummed. “Just give it time, he’s bad at new things.”

Even though I called Jeonghan out of max desperation he’s still little help at best. I _have_ been waiting. I _know_ he likes coffee and music. I’m genuinely a little shocked to learn that he would go out of his way, go all the way out of his comfort zone to follow Jeonghan around and make he was safe (I loved my friends dearly but I didn’t even have anyone like that, Seokmin was usually trying the same shit I was, Hansol was a danger to himself and everyone around him and Chan didn’t step in until it was literally a life or death situation). But I try to follow his advice anyway. The atmosphere in the apartment is still chilly and suffocating (the same it’s been since I moved in) I can ride it out for a little longer.

I don’t spend a lot of time at the apartment anyway. The atmosphere is killing me and I’m fine with giving it time but god, I can’t spend any more time in the apartment like that. So I spend a ton of time with Seokmin in the dorms (even though I hate the dorms and moved out to get away from them). And I spend more time in the dance studio, messing around with Chan and even getting a few lines in with Kibum. And at some point I start running out of places to be so I start hiding out at the library and my grades have never looked so impressive. I even spend a night at Jun’s apartment to try to avoid my own (he’s not there but he gave me a key when he first moved out so I can use his practice space whenever I wanted for dance stuff because Jun is an angel I truly don’t deserve).

I finally run out of things to do outside of the apartment some Friday afternoon. I was supposed to go to a party with Seokmin later and while he was like my _soulmate_ , you can only spend so much time with one person. The dance studio was overrun with a performance that I wasn’t a part of and that I didn’t help choreograph and I couldn’t just insert myself in the preparations. And I was _sick_ of the library! I hated it. And Jun was still out of the country for some photoshoot and I wasn’t just going to show up at Jeonghan’s, I felt weird doing that anymore.

I got sick of variety shows and the games on my phone and Twitter and called Chan as my last friend left who was available. “Chan,” I whined into the phone once he picked up.

“Good!” He chirped. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“I’m bored!” I whined again.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’m stuck back at the apartment and it still feels like shit because Jihoon still won’t talk to me and like I’ve tried _a lot_ now!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! I keep buying him stuff and you were there to witness the soup mistake—”

“Hyung,”

“Then I bought him the fancy coffee—”

“Soonyoung-hyung,”

“I even called Jeonghan! He doesn’t know anything that I don’t know and that was a bust—”

“Soonyoung,”

“I _know_ he likes coffee and music and I _know_ he hates parties and now I know he hates me, god he hates me, I can’t believe he hates me—”

“Soonyoungie!”

The nickname gets me attention more than the lack of an honorific. I don’t expect the “hyung” from Chan, I don’t expect it from Seokmin, I don’t even expect it from Hansol. Chan feels my age, sometimes even older so I never mind. It’s the nickname that gets me because Chan is tight and professional and teasing but rarely straight-up affectionate with me. “Yeah?” I finally respond.

“I wanted to _tell_ you something.” He sounds almost disappointed and reprimanding but it’s cute coming from him. “Something big!” He sounds excited, like he can barely keep it in.

“Oh, yeah?” I really don’t know what to expect, Chan rarely tells any of us about any of the many, many amazing things he’s accomplished. I had to find out from his parents that he graduated high school early and that he’s double-majoring. I always have to find out from dance teachers when Chan gets scouted for some performance or wins some accolade or gets an offer to be a back up dancer for whoever.

“Yeah!” He squeals. “Hansol kissed me!” He’s giggling and giddy. “Hansol _kissed_ _me_!”

“No!” I fall into the same kind of feminine, gossipy tone because I’ve never heard Chan sound like this and it’s habit.

“He did! He invited me over to help him with his homework but when I got there he told me that it was already done and that he just wanted me over because he missed me and then he told me that he misses me a whole lot like all the time and how he feels like I’m really special and he feels so much better when I’m around and then he kissed me! And then he kissed me some more! And he is just so cute, hyung! He’s so cute I’m dying! He _did his homework_ for me!”

“So are you like…a thing now?”

He sighed. “I mean I think so. I mean there was like a confession attached to the kiss. I mean like…I _hope_ so.”

I smiled warmly, feeding off of his excitement. “I hope so too.”

“I’m so happy!” He cried. “I can’t believe he likes me! I can’t believe _Hansol_ likes me!”

“I’m happy for you too.”

I text Seokmin once I hang up with Chan. _our little channie is growin up! getting settled down with hansol :’)_

_yea…that happened on like Tuesday_

_no??? no??? no! he just told me today_

_he told me on tuesday lol_

I felt like extra shit in the awful, cold apartment. I had been texting Chan a ton, trying to distract myself from the Jihoon problem, trying to solve the Jihoon problem. I had only been texting him about Jihoon. I honestly didn’t even know that Chan was interested in Hansol. I mean I guessed because they seemed a lot closer to each other than any of the rest of my friends but also they were the closest in age so it could’ve been either. And like I couldn’t believe that I was so behind on Chan’s life, so wrapped up in not getting along with my roommate or whatever dumb shit this was. _regularly scheduled party cancelled_ , I texted Seokmin, _to be replaced with a pity party alone at the apartment_ , _alcohol not cancelled_

_c’mon soonyoung don’t be like this_

_i’m a shitty friend and now i have to repent, tell chan i love him_

The message is read and once a couple of minutes have passed and there is no response I figure he’s either given up and is gonna leave me alone or he’s on his way over to drag me out. I wasn’t joking about the alcohol not being cancelled. I have shitty liquor left-over from when I lived at the dorms and nicer liquor that was a housewarming (cute and ironic for how cold the apartment ended up I know) gift from Jeonghan when I moved out. I start with the shitty liquor because it’s a pity party after all. I go back to variety shows and breeze through some fancy microbrew that was supposed to taste like chocolate that Seokmin and Seungkwan both gagged at before leaving with me. I gagged at it too but I finished it and Seokmin never showed up at my apartment so I figured I was off the hook for tonight.

I don’t realize how _gone_ I am, how much I should not have drunk until the apartment door is clicking open and for some reason I’m still expecting Seokmin but it’s Jihoon instead. I’m sprawled out on the couch with an empty bottle and a half empty bottle and I’m still in PJs and that can’t be a flattering look on anyone. It’s the second time I accidentally caught Jihoon coming into the apartment and it’s because I’m home when I didn’t think I’d be again. My sober brain eventually wonders if Jihoon has been purposefully avoiding me and if he knows my schedule but that thought passes right by my drunk brain.

“Soonyoung?” Jihoon questions, he isn’t in a quick and efficient rush to get his stuff put away and lock himself in his room for once. He’s slow and questioning, probably because I look pitiful and horrible.

“Did you know Chan got a boyfriend?” I blurt out. It’s the only thing still on my mind and I really want to know that I’m not the last one to find out.

“Um, no.” He said awkwardly, still questioning and uncomfortable.

“He did…” I get lost in my brain for a second, “it’s Hansol. I just found out today.” I wave off.

“Is that why we’re drinking?” He perches uncomfortably on an old gaming chair he brought to the apartment and stuck in the living room for extra seating and also so he wouldn’t have to just throw it away. He stalks around me like he’s worried about what I’ll do, like I’m a wounded animal that might strike out. I appreciate him reaching out regardless. “Did you like him?” He elaborates.

“No! No, Chan is like my best friend and like Hansol is like his best friend I kinda get along with.”

“The drinking is unrelated?” He asks skeptically.

“It’s a pity party.” He’s still staring at me like he wants me to elaborate and I don’t wanna disappoint. “It’s a pity party because I only found out that they got together today and like everyone else already knew because I’ve only been talking to Chan about my problems because I’m a selfish bastard and a bad friend.” The admission re-opens the wound and I reach back for the bottle.

Jihoon twitches like he’s going to stop me (probably a reflex left-over from babysitting Jeonghan at parties) but doesn’t actually do anything. “I mean, I didn’t know either. Maybe he was waiting to tell you?”

I sigh and never actually get around to taking a swig (it’s still fucking gross). “I just feel bad. Chan never wants to brag or get excited over stuff and I’ve never seen him in a relationship, I’ve never even seen him _like_ anyone! It’s like missing my kid growing up.”

“Well, first off, he’s not your kid. I don’t know if anyone really considers him a ‘kid’ anymore—”

“Jeonghan,” I interrupt.

He laughs, and he’s not perched just on the edge of the chair anymore, he looks more comfortable. “Yeah, sure but point is, he still told you and you still supported him.”

I rolled my head towards the armrest of the couch, considering the comfort from Jihoon. “I’m still gonna feel like shit for a little bit,” I decide, “but thanks for trying to help. Thanks for reaching out at all. I was really convinced you hated me.” I laughed.

“I don’t hate you.” He assured.

“It just feels like you’re always avoiding me and you never talk to me and like…I’d like to talk to you. It’d probably be better if we like _got along_ while we’re living together you know?” I spill, my already loose and pretty much useless brain-to-mouth filter eradicated by the alcohol.

Jihoon looks uncomfortable again, looks pensive and resigned too—like he’s been in the situation more than once. “I’m not…great with people always and I’m really not great with new people and you’re really popular and stuff so I just kinda…didn’t think we were supposed to be _friends_ …?” He explains slowly, carefully.

“I’m not popular, my best friend is fucking freshman.” I laughed.

“My like only friend is a freshman.” He countered.

“You can be friends with me.” I offered.

He snorted. “Yeah, ok, sure.”

I scrambled to get myself upright. “No, no wait, I have an idea.” He hummed questioningly and didn’t seem to be going anywhere so I kept going. “I tell you and embarrassing story about me and you tell me one about you and we like…bond?”

He made an ‘X’ with his arms. “Absolutely not.”

“C’mon, I’m pretty fucked up I might not even remember this in the morning.”

“You’re still sober enough to realize that you’re fucked up.” He argued.

“Fine, you tell me one embarrassing story about yourself and I’ll tell you two about me. Final offer.”

“Final offer?” He laughed. “Sure, whatever.”

“First story,” I introduce with flourish, just for fun, “the first time I met Jeonghan, I was a freshman and I was wasted at a party with Jun and I saw Jeonghan and just burst into tears and I sobbed in front of him for like two whole minutes before I finally got to tell him that I was crying because his hair’s so pretty.”

He snorted. “But you still left the party with him didn’t you?”

I shrugged. “I mean, that’s quite a compliment. Sobbing because of your beauty?” I wait for him to start but he just looks nervous and doesn’t say anything. “So? Tell me yours.”

He takes a sharp breath in through his nose. “So I make music,”

“Cool, I do choreo.” I add and I’m probably a pretty shitty conversation partner at this point and I honestly might not remember all of this tomorrow.

“Cool,” he laughs and it seems fond, “but I make music and some of the stuff I make stays with me and some of it gets bought by like big companies to lease out and some of it uh…some of it ends up in porn.” He shrugs.

“No!” I screech. “You’re joking! How does that even happen?”

“They just like shoot me an email and then I send them the song and they send me money.” He blushed and looked uncomfortable. “It’s like shockingly normal.”

“Do they pay good?”

“Better than most stuff.” He tries to look humble. “You owe me one more story, though.”

I think of all the embarrassing shit I’ve done in my life—at parties, in class, behind closed doors with just Seokmin, the one time I went to a rap battle with Hansol and Chan—but all of it pales in comparison to the last few months. “You remember when I made all that soup and told you to could have some?” He nodded. “I actually made that soup specifically for you, to get on your good side,” and then it’s all just spilling out because I cracked the floodgates open, “and the coldbrew I left on the counter for you wasn’t a mistake at the café, I had to call Chan and ask for your coffee order so I could get that for you and the coffee beans I left for you weren’t from my mom, I bought them at the mall and they were really expensive and they weren’t even good and I just kept getting all this shit and doing all this shit because I hated not talking to you and I thought you hated me and I put so much effort in for like…nothing so that’s why it’s so embarrassing. Also I’m sure I could’ve just like asked you to talk or whatever and not been like that.” I sighed.

Jihoon looked genuinely caught off-guard, his eyes soft and pretty for the first time I’d ever seen. “That’s um…sweet, that’s really sweet of you. I didn’t take any of the stuff because I didn’t think you really wanted me to take it. I didn’t realize that you were trying so hard.”

“See?” I cried. “I should’ve just like…talked to you. I’m so bad at thinking things through.”

He seems fondly annoyed. “Well, we talked now, it just took some time. And like feel free to just knock on my door whenever I shut myself away. I’m probably not doing anything important, it’s just habit.”

“Feel free to bother me whenever you see me,” I offer flippantly, “I like talking to you.”

“Of course,” he answers and he’s collecting all his stuff and heading down the hallway, “if you fall asleep make sure it’s on your stomach! I don’t want you choking on your own vomit.” He laughs.

I smile stupidly, feeling warm and content. Before I pass out (on my stomach, of course) I shoot out a text to Chan, _jihoon doesn’t hate me :D_


	3. new perks unlocked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more focus on the mentioned one-sided woozi/baekhyun and mentioned chanbaek (i know like next to nothing about exo and this shit still happened anyway lol) plus more mentions of all the pairings i talked about before

It’s no surprise to Chan that Jihoon doesn’t actually hate me. It’s no surprise to anyone actually. They were all telling me that he was just awkward the whole time. But it’s good to have concrete proof that Jihoon doesn’t hate me and to remember the whole conversation the morning after and let myself bask in the memory of feeling warmly towards Jihoon while I dragged myself out of bed.

There’s a glass of water, some aspirin and what I hope is a breakfast burrito sitting on the counter next to a note. _You’ll probably want this_ is all Jihoon writes. I figure the smiley faces and hearts will come later in our relationship.

 _ty roomie! <3 _I text Jihoon, figuring he’s still out before I text Seokmin to assure him that I did _not_ get into some gruesome accident or die in my sleep somehow.  I get like an hour to recover from my hangover (even though it really isn’t as bad as I figured it’d be) before I’m off to the dance studio. When I get home I see Jihoon’s stuff in the living room and can even make out a square of light from his room in the hallway. I feel dumbly giddy at the sight. It feels like a _dream_ that Jihoon doesn’t hate me, that I’m allowed in his room, that he left a hangover cure for me.

Jihoon’s room is almost what I expect. His bedspread is a respectable navy and the walls are bare, there are a few cute, little dolls on his desk but it’s mostly crowded by a nice-ass computer and equipment I’m horrified to touch for fear I’ll break it. The only thing that really has personality in the whole room (aside from Jihoon himself) is a CD tower crammed with CDs that’s probably as tall as him. “Jihoon,” I call, sitting down on his bed so he knows I’m there.

He jumps a little in his seat before taking his headphones off and turning to me. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Thanks for the hangover cure.” I beam.

He shrugs. “I figured I should do something to make up for all the soup and coffee and stuff you got for me.”

“It was my dumbass decision to do all that shit, don’t feel responsible for it.” I wave off. I pick up a figurine of an anime character I don’t really recognize and re-pose it, fiddling with the joints before setting it back down. Jihoon is turned away from me again, clicking around on a program that is completely foreign to me but his headphones are still off. “What’s up with all the CDs?” I finally ask. “Isn’t that pretty old school?”

He looked at the tower like it held the answer. “Most of them are really old.” He explained. I thumbed my way over tons of multi-colored spines and saw Drunken Tiger and Yoon Mirae, the first Super Junior album, and Sistar. I also see names I don’t recognize, things that must’ve passed me over but that obviously made an impression on Jihoon. “One of the first birthday presents I can remember getting is a discman so after that, most of my presents were CDs, at least until I was like 11 and everyone started moving towards digital music.” He turned back towards his screen. “I just never had to heart to get rid of any of them.”

I kick my feet up behind me, getting comfortable on Jihoon’s bed. It’s amazing that I can just _ask_ him things to get answers. That I don’t have to try to worm my way in with presents and offers that I’m lying about. That I can just wander into a warmly-lit room and ask him about whatever is on my mind…or not. That I also have the option to just sit behind him like this, keeping him company in the simplest way.

It’s late, late, late after a showcase with the dance studio—one of those nights where I’m wired and still feeding off of the energy from audience instead of drained and exhausted. I try my best to come into the apartment quietly and gracefully (even though I remember Jihoon coming in at ungodly hours and accidentally bumping into everything and then lowly cursing at everything he bumped into). I still feel like fistpumping and kicking wildly into the air and clapping and stomping, though. I try showering to get my body and mind to calm the fuck down (and because I’m sweaty and gross still after more than an hour of straight dancing). It doesn’t help any. So I put on my headphones and quietly close my door and continue dancing. It’s a Saturday night, I have nowhere to be in the morning.

At some point in my endless quest to actually, really tire myself out my door cracks open just a touch and Jihoon’s little face peaks around the corner. It reminds me of the cat I had when I was a kid, somehow. “You’re still up?” He asks.

“Yeah, why are _you_ still up?” I counter.

“I wanted some food.” He shrugs. “You wanna come with?”

I take my headphones off and set my phone down. “What’s even open still?”

“Convenience store, at least.” He answers and he’s already slipping down the hallway like he just _knows_ I’m going to follow. I do, though, and we’re both slipping on jackets and locking up the apartment and I’m just following Jihoon where ever he wants. We do end up at a convenience store. I don’t know if that’s how Jihoon planned it or if that’s just how it worked out.

Jihoon picks up several different kinds of instant ramen (he likes to mix the flavor packets, he explains) and a container of mixed berries like some kind of semi-functional adult. I find a rack of clearance candies and pick up as many as I can and ice cream as an extra treat and then when Jihoon shoots a disapproving look (one that looks too similar to both Chan and Jeonghan for my tastes) I add a granola bar.

The fluorescent lights and brightly-colored packaging and the inescapable smell of air conditioning is such a contrast to how my nights usually feel. If I make it to this ungodly hour of night (morning?) it’s usually because I’m at party that’s dimly-lit and smells like spilled drinks and tightly-packed bodies or I’m at a recital where the only light is squarely on me and I can faintly smell the bouquets of flowers in the audience. This is a whole other experience. It feels like I’m in high school again, trying to sober up at least the tiniest bit with some snacks before showing up back home.

I’ve already started on my ice cream by the time we’re walking back home, the other hand swinging my bag back and forth aimlessly. “So why are you still up?” Jihoon finally asks.

I swallow my mouthful out of courtesy before answering. “Just got back from a dance recital and it was too hard to sleep.”

Jihoon gives me (or maybe not me, maybe just the whole universe but I want it to be for me) a small smile. “I didn’t know you did performances like I knew you danced and did choreo but I didn’t know that you did it for audiences.”

“Don’t you perform your music?”

He shakes his head. “Can’t play a whole band by myself and usually I only do jingles or backing tracks or beats or whatever, nothing worthy of a whole performance.”

“Oh,” I frown, I can’t imagine working on choreo and performances like I do and then never getting to show it to people, not having an audience for it. “Live performances are fun, I love them.”

“Maybe I should go to one some time.”

My whole face splits into a grin. “You should! You totally should!” Sometimes I can wrangle Seokmin into coming or Jeonghan if it’s an important enough performance and usually Chan and Kibum are already on the stage with me or waiting just behind the curtains for their own performance. The idea of Jihoon especially, taking time out to watch me perform makes my whole body feel warm. “Even if I’m not awake next time you want a late-night snack like wake me up, this is fun.”

“I won’t wake you up.” He scoffs.

“No! Do it! I’d rather miss out on some sleep than this.” He rolls his eyes fondly but doesn’t argue any farther.

I leave Jihoon a note on the counter that has all of my upcoming recital dates once I have them and on the next one (a Friday afternoon) Jihoon is trying to rush me out of the apartment (I don’t even know how I ended up almost late, I think I lost part of my costume at some point) so I can get there on time. He even walks me to the studio, more twitchy and nervous than I’ve been in a long time. “If you did performances I’d go to them too.” I tell him as some kind of reassurance.

“I know.” He tells me with a bright smile that is _so_ good and _so_ cute and lights up my whole world. It’s a smile that’s a reward in itself, that feels better than real awards and rewards and the applause I hear at the end of recitals.

I leave Jihoon in the capable hands of Jeonghan (who has agreed to come to this performance too but only once I told him Jihoon was coming) and dart backstage. The lights feel warmer knowing that Jihoon is watching behind them and the music feels crisper—means more with all Jihoon has taught me about production whenever I spent lazy afternoons lounging in his room.

When I finally hop off stage Jeonghan is crowding a bashful-looking and reluctant Jihoon towards me. “He has something for you!” Jeonghan cries.

Jihoon begrudgingly presents me with a bouquet of sunny white and yellow carnations. I can’t speak or think or react for a second because no one has gotten me flowers for a performance since I was in middle school and my parents still did. “Are the flowers…appropriate?” Jihoon finally asks. “I thought that roses would be a little much so I got these instead but I still wanted to get you something because it was really impressive and you did really well so…here are these.”

“Flowers are perfect.” I finally breathe out and then all my senses are finally catching up to the situation and my chest feels so full and so light that it might burst. And I’m scooping Jihoon up into a tight hug that I don’t even expect. “Oh my god the flowers are perfect! They’re so perfect and you’re so sweet! You’re! So! Sweet!”

Jihoon struggles in my grasp. “Boundaries.” He hisses.

I drop him immediately. “Too much?” I confirm sheepishly.

He nods. “I’ll let you off with a warning because of the extenuating circumstances but watch yourself, Soonyoung.” He jokes.

I laugh with him and make sure to note to myself that there still are boundaries. There are plenty boundaries left with Jihoon and I can’t just bulldoze over all of them. He’s a person, not just a rewarding, sunny smile. He’s a friend with a rewarding, sunny smile.

 _jihoon was so excited to get you flowers :’) i miss my little teddy bear :(_ Jeonghan texts me while I’m walking home with Jihoon.

_you wanna move in with him?_

_ah…i wish…_

_shut up, you’re already basically living with your husband_

_husband? we’re not married!  
…yet  >:)_

I know that Jeonghan and Seungcheol are already married in all the important ways and that rings and papers and official titles won’t change anything. I’m way too familiar with single Jeonghan to not notice how domestic and settled down Seungcheol made him. I remember helping Jeonghan to wash vomit out of his hair at like one in the afternoon on Sundays, both of us still groggy about the night before and cranky from hangovers. I remember forgetting to eat til two in the morning when the only thing available was shitty, greasy pizza but we still ate it anyways. I remember the sporadic modeling offers and Jeonghan ignoring phone calls from unfamiliar numbers more times than I can count and missing out on deals because he just wasn’t committed. And now I know that Jeonghan has consistent modeling offers and has shot fucking _commercials_ even and has an agency that isn’t so sketchy. I’ve showed up to Jeonghan’s for dinner or movies and found him in an apron, _cooking_. And it took months of also being a piece of shit, drinking too much and eating shitty, greasy pizza and not committing to the things that I loved to admit that Jeonghan was better like this than he ever was with me. And it’s still horrifying, in some ways, that Jeonghan’s only a year older than me—that it could be _me_ cooking in an apron in a warm and homey apartment with my significant other in only a year or so—but more than anything I’m happy for him.

Jihoon gets the flu early in spring semester (because he overworks himself and never sleeps like a normal human). I dote on him as much as he (and my schedule) let me. I make him soup with tons of ginger this time and I can’t believe that our relationship has grown to include in jokes about soup. “I can’t believe you’re eating soup that I made you.” I joke, watching Jihoon from a safe distance.

“I don’t hate soup and I don’t hate _your_ soup.” He laughs and his voice is rough and hoarse from the illness. It makes me wanna wrap him up in my arms but he’s already wrapped up in a blanket and that’s enough. Plus we aren’t like that yet. We might never be like that, Jihoon might be a little distant and hate touching for our entire relationship. I don’t hate the thought. I can cuddle up to Seokmin all I want and he’ll never complain and Jihoon can avoid my touchy nature forever. I’d rather never crowd his space and always have him be happy than anything else.

Jihoon spends most of his time sick weaving in and out of consciousness to the worst daytime television has to offer him. At some point on a Sunday he stumbles upon reruns of an old, old drama neither of us had ever seen before. I’m stuck in the living room with him, to keep him company and make sure he doesn’t actually die from the flu. I start watching the show because it’s so refreshing to have something that isn’t news or a variety show for the first time in what feels like forever. I actually get sucked in shortly before I pass out in the blanket nest I made to match Jihoon.

When I wake up Jihoon is struggling to untangle himself from the blankets he wrapped himself up in during the day, half-off the couch already. “You going back to your room?” I ask, still groggy.

He nods and I slither my way out of my chair and move Jihoon onto my back, at least one blanket still tucked around him. “Put me down,” his voice is still weak and scratchy and it’s not a very convincing complaint, “you’ll get sick.”

“It’s just a piggyback, I’ll be fine.” Jihoon is light and I have that dancer strength that I’ve always had and I wouldn’t mind doing this for Jihoon even if he wasn’t sick. “Plus I don’t think you’d make it on your own.”

Jihoon is hanging limply off of me, weak protests forgotten by the time I drop him off in a little blanket bundle in his bed. “My friend Mingyu,” he mumbles into the blanket nest, “he used to give me piggyback rides when I stayed at the studio too long before I got all my own equipment…” He trails off, losing his thought in his sick little brain. “He’s really tall.” He finishes.

“Oh?” I acknowledge, running my hands through his hair, over his burning forehead, feeling over-protective and overly-affectionate.

Jihoon just rolls himself tighter into his blanket bundle and turns towards the wall. I stroke through his hair one more time and lean down to whisper, “Feel better, Hoonie.” I absolutely intend to leave but I guess I managed to fall asleep in his bed because I wake up to Jihoon using all of his recovering strength to push me out of his bed.

“You’ll get sick. Get out. Get out.” He grunts and I hit the floor with a sad and surprised whine. “Why are you even in here?” He asks, narrowed eyes peeking out from under a blanket.

I shrugged. “I guess I fell asleep here.”

“When you get sick I’m not taking care of you.” He threatens.

Jihoon rides out the rest of his flu with the drama we started and doesn’t flinch away, shy away or tell me I’m crossing boundaries when I feed him or check his forehead for his temperature or smooth his hair back fondly either. I don’t know if this is another case of extenuating circumstances—him biting his tongue because my behavior is appropriate for the situation—or if this is some new part of Jihoon I’ve unlocked.

The more time I spend in Jihoon’s room (which is honestly a lot, most of the time I’m at home is spent in Jihoon’s room) the more I hear his music. Which is a lot of everything. I feel like I can never place where he’s going next—what he’s making because he knows someone will buy it and what he’s making because he’s actually passionate about it. I’m hanging out in his room with him one day, listening to a song I’ve heard him work on for a while. He’s working with his headphones off because it’s at the stage where commentary is helpful and appreciated. “Hey, I can do some choreo for this.” I think out loud.

“Why would you want to?” Jihoon scoffed. “It’s probably gonna get compiled into stock soundtrack package and then end up in a commercial or in some kid’s student film.”

“It’s just practice for me. I’ve already heard the song a lot.” I shrugged. “Think of it like a collaboration like we both do cool shit and then we do one big cool thing together.”

“Fine, sure.” Jihoon answers. “If you want to, go for it.”

And that’s the first time I use Jihoon’s songs for some practice choreographing. I do something for every song he shows me from then on out, though. It leads us to clearing the living room as best we can so I can practice and perform without the studio involved for once. I eventually convince Jihoon to donate one of his songs for a recital, “Just for me, a solo for me,” I tell him to actually get him on board.

The song doesn’t just mean more, doesn’t just _feel_ like more because Jihoon has shown me what it takes to make a song, it feels like more because it’s _Jihoon’s_ song. I’m dancing to his song. I’m the first one—the _only_ one—that has taken his work to a performance.

When I’m done I wanna tell everyone that Jihoon made the song. I wanna shine the spotlight on him so everyone knows. I wanna make a speech about how talented Jihoon is, about how hard he works, about how sweet he is to give me this song but I’m not really allowed to do speeches anymore. I’m too quick to cry and then I never regain my composure so speeches and dedications from me usually just ended up being me sobbing on stage until Chan could usher me off. Kibum told everyone that the song was made by “Lee Jihoon” while I did my final bows and while only his name and not any descriptors, not his cute little face, not his twitchy little mannerisms, not anything I knew about him didn’t feel like enough it was at least something.

Jihoon finds me after the performance by himself this time, still holding something behind his back, still looking bashful. He pushes a bouquet of sunny, golden yellow roses into my hands. “I figured that roses would be appropriate this time because it’s kinda a special occasion or whatever.” He explains.

I look down at the bouquet, it’s beautiful and it’s a lot. I know how expensive roses are. It feels like a lot more than carnations and breakfast burritos and his time and maybe even more than donating his song to me. “The roses are more than appropriate.” I tell him sincerely, getting over the affection quicker this time. “They’re beautiful, thanks.”

“I got you yellow so you wouldn’t get any kind of ideas.” He says in response.

I shake my head. “I’m not getting any kind of ideas. No ideas at all.” I confirm.

He smiles a small smile as he walks me outside the studio. “You did really good, though.” He says quietly, like it’s an admission, like it’s a secret that he thinks I’ve done well. “You were right about performing my music, it was really nice to see.”

“Next time I’ll see if you can DJ behind me.” I can already imagine a stage with brightly-colored lights and smoke effects. “It’ll be more fun with you than alone.”

“I’m not a DJ!” Jihoon complains, hitting me playfully. “I’m not gonna be _that_ asshole onstage.”

I roll some other ideas around in my head. “Ok, so not that one but we’ll do some kind of collaboration some day.” I tell him. The rest of the walk home is quiet and I just enjoy the newfound closeness. Sometimes I’ll feel Jihoon’s elbow brush against mine and he doesn’t jerk away and I guess that was a permanent thing and not just left-over from his sickly neediness. Maybe I had managed to break down some of the physical barrier between us.

“So where do I find your music?” I finally asked Jihoon some weekend morning while he was still drinking his coffee. “Like if I wanted to buy a track off of you or hear your stuff, where would I get it?”

Jihoon barely looked up from his coffee. “I mean I have a soundcloud like everyone else. It’s ‘woozi’.”

“Woozi?” I cried. “ _Woozi_? That’s so fucking cute. That’s the cutest name I’ve ever heard. What the fuck? _Woozi_?!”

He laughed into his coffee. “Yeah, Woozi, why?”

“I mean you’re probably like the cutest person I know anyway but like Woozi sounds so cute. It sounds like some mascot for a Japanese kid’s show I’m too old for.”

“Me? The cutest?” He sounds somewhere between dismissive and flustered. “Why not Chan? He’s still a baby. He’s still young enough to be ‘cute’.”

“Don’t like being cute?” I ask, not teasing or testing, just curious.

“I’m too old to be cute.” He says after a beat of silence. He seems to have regained his composure more or less.

It doesn’t seem like a definitive response so I don’t drop it entirely. “You are cute, though.” I argue. “Your little face is cute and you’re sense of style is cute and when your hair was pink it was _really_ cute and the way you stick your tongue out when you’re working is cute and the way you always fidget with your hands when you’re not paying attention is cute and your smile is _so_ cute! Your smile is like _the_ cutest.” I let it all spill out because I like complimenting Jihoon. I like complimenting all of my friends but Jeonghan knows he’s gorgeous and Chan knows he’s perfect and Seokmin always turns it into a joke so it feels best with Jihoon. It feels like I’m actually doing something and getting somewhere, complimenting him.

The blush started with the first compliment and crept all the way up to his ears, staining everything from his chest up a bright red. “Shut up!” He finally gets in, burying his face in his hands. “That’s embarrassing! How does that not embarrass you?”

I shrugged. “I want you to know the good things about you. I want all my friends to know the good things I notice about them. I figure it’ll only make them happier to hear that someone notices, you know?”

“Fucking compliment my music or something then, don’t call me cute you fucking weirdo.” It still sounds playful, though, and I don’t feel like I’ve overstepped anything.

“Next time.” I tell him and ruffle his hair. He doesn’t flinch away from my touch and the novelty of being able to be _close_ to Jihoon still hasn’t worn off.

Me and Jihoon both get a little drunk (or we plan on only getting a little drunk, Jihoon has forgotten his tolerance level and I’ve never been able to stay buzzed or tipsy or whatever once I start drinking) to celebrate the end of midterms. We started with a drinking game during some cooking competition that lead into some heated rounds of Mario Kart and now it was “shitty frat party” kind of late.

“Truth or dare?” I asked Jihoon instead of asking him to actually play the game with me.

“When the fuck did we start playing?” He asked, confused and pissed.

“Now.” I answered, honestly too smoothly for my mental state. “So, truth or dare?”

Jihoon looks down at his bottle skeptically. “You’re an evil motherfucker so…truth.”

I hadn’t thought of a dare anyway, didn’t think I could really come up with anything mortifying for Jihoon to do when it was only us. “Tell me about Baekhyun.” I said casually.

He buried his face in his hands the second I said the name. “Baekhyun? How’d you even find out about Baekhyun?” He whined.

“Chan.” I responded simply.

“That little rat.” He hissed.

I laughed, knowing Chan had sold out (with little prompting) Seokmin, Jeonghan, me and even Seungcheol plenty of times before. “So? Tell me.”

He sighed. “So Baekhyun was like a tutor/mentor for me because I kinda just jumped into higher level production classes, he wasn’t—he wasn’t even like a production major, I don’t know how I got paired up with him. He was a singer and his voice—his voice was _so_ fucking good, Soonyoung, like I can’t even tell you it was so amazing…” He trailed off.

“You’re gonna need to tell me something more juicy for truth or dare.” I prodded.

He picked at the label on his bottle, eyes firmly trained on the floor. “I wrote most of my songs for him, based on him, inspired by him, for his voice, whatever.” He finally admitted. “I guess I had a stupid, hopeless crush on him because he was really funny and was always trying to make me smile and stuff…and his _voice_.” He groaned. “It doesn’t fucking matter, though, because he graduated and I lost touch with him and also it turns out the entire time I knew him he was dating this guy, Chanyeol, who I thought was just his roommate because I was blinded by my own stupid, stupid crush.” He flicked a bit of label stuck to his finger across the table forcefully. “It really, _really_ doesn’t matter now, though, because it’s been years since I talked to him and I probably never will again. So…whatever, that’s the deal with Baekhyun.”

I felt like I opened a wound I really, _really_ didn’t mean to open with him. Mostly I just wanted to tease him a little bit over a crush I assumed was similar what I had with Kibum. This little explosion of bitterness that was resigned and miserable was honestly hard to watch. “Oh,” I finally said.

“You might as well tell me about Kibum since Chan told me about him too.” Jihoon tells me and the game of truth or dare is forgotten which is fine because it’s boring with just two people (me and Seokmin tried enough times).

“He told me he only tells dancers about Kibum.” I joked.

“Well, he told me too…maybe so we were even there.” He joked back.

“Kibum? There’s not really…” I cut myself off with a shrug, “I’d tap that.” I finally finish.

Jihoon lets out a cute and sharp snort that turns into a fizzing giggle that he has no hold on. It’s good. It’s one of the best laughs I’ve ever heard. “’I’d tap that’?” He repeats, almost a screech, absolutely incredulous. “Fuckin’…” He loses the thought somewhere. “Fucking poetic! Beautiful! Amazing! A modern romance!” His laughter quiets down to something manageable. “’I’d tap that’ I can’t fucking _believe_ you, Soonyoung.”

I shrug again, laughing with him. “It’s not really like a thing. He’s just cute and a good dancer and like _loud_ —he’s loud as shit and sometimes I make passes at him and he doesn’t shut me down but he doesn’t really seem interested either. It’s just like…we’re just playing around you know? It’s all just fun.”

“What a fucking romantic, what a story.” Jihoon snorted. “Chan might as well have just told me that you used to fuck Jeonghan, just as goddamned interesting.”

The game is definitely over and the conversation is slowing down too. I don’t mind, though, because at least I cracked the bitter, miserable atmosphere Jihoon fell into. Baekhyun feels forgotten again which is where Jihoon seems to want him anyway. And even if it was my dumb, stupid drunk idea to open that wound in the first place at least it was also my dumb, stupid drunk response that distracted him again. And that laugh was worth anything—worth even that bitter and resigned look on Jihoon’s face. So I lean into him on the couch and he makes a fake disgusted face and tells me to “back the fuck off” but I just nuzzle further into him and he lets me stay. So I guess drunk Jihoon has different boundaries from sober Jihoon.

It’s late Sunday morning, after a recital for me which usually means lazing around the apartment or going to bother Seokmin at his dorm. Jihoon was almost always gone on Sunday mornings, dealing with projects in the library, working with vocalists at the studio he used to use or (rarely, _rarely_ ) getting dragged to a café by Jeonghan or Mingyu or Chan. So I stumble out into the kitchen, looking for the stale donuts the dance studio donated to me after the recital. But for once I find Jihoon instead.

He’s still in his PJs (sweats and a t-shirt that must’ve belonged to Mingyu or someone equally as tall before because it just _drowns_ Jihoon) and he’s standing in front of the little window above the sink. And I’ve never been so thankful for a window in my entire life because Jihoon’s hair is softened up from white to a golden blond and his skin is a color that looks warm and inviting and my brain is still fuzzy from sleep and is having trouble processing the beauty. I try to let Jihoon know in some way that he’s beautiful and that the lighting is _so good_ for him and that this image will forever be intertwined with Sunday mornings for me but all that comes out is a soft and surprised noise.

“Morning.” Jihoon hums, turning around to look at me and then turning back.

I slide up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, resting my chin on top of his head and sighing happily. It’s the best way I can think to show my appreciation towards his beauty and now that I’m closer I see that he’s babysitting some eggs on the stove. I don’t know if they’re for me (don’t really care either) but I still nuzzle my face into his hair to show appreciation for those too.

Jihoon seems to ignore my affections entirely. “You know how I tell you that you’re like too much or you’re doing too much or that you should back the fuck off and you listen to me for like two whole days and then you’re just as clingy as always and you’re still all in my personal space?” I just nod because it’s still early and all the words got jumbled up in my brain. “Well, this is the most you’ve ever done. This is like top tier too much.”

I tighten my arms around his waist. “You look good.” I murmur slowly.

He just laughs. “I swear to god, you are _so much_ with your affection. Can you like tone it down?”

I shook my head. “You look really soft and huggable and I’m still in snuggle mode.”

“’Snuggle mode’?” Jihoon mocks, finally shaking my arms off. “That’s literally disgusting. Never say anything like that around me again.”

I whine but flop down on the couch anyway. “If you can’t take that how’re you friends with Jeonghan still?”

Jihoon looks me directly in the eyes—a challenge, a challenge I am way too tired for. “I haven’t even seen Jeonghan and Sungcheol in the _same room_ since they started dating.”

I laugh at his dedication. “Ok, noted, no more gross stuff.” I let Jihoon go back to his eggs. “You do look really good, though. The sun is really good for you like this is _your_ lighting.”

“Are you giving me…photography advice?” Jihoon asks, motioning for me to elaborate.

“I’m giving you a compliment!” I whine, tossing a pillow over the couch in frustration.

Jihoon laughs at his own joke and splits the eggs in half so I can have some. “I can’t believe that you were once too subtle for me to figure out that you wanted to be friends and now you’re like this.” He gestured to where I was—crowding his personal space on the couch, sharing his eggs with him.

“That’s the first time anyone has ever called me subtle.” I tell him around a mouthful of eggs.

“I’m not shocked.” He jokes.

In the middle of eggs and slow conversation my heart skips a beat and I realize it’s because the apartment is _warm_ and _sunny_. I’m home, I’m here more than I ever was when I lived with my parents or in the dorms. I’m home more than I would be even if I lived with Seokmin probably. I can see sunlight streaming in through Jihoon’s bedroom door still. Jihoon’s stuff is strewn all over the living room—a jacket draped over the gaming chair, an empty take-out coffee cup on the counter, one of his CD cases sitting next to the TV—instead of hidden away. The couch is still crooked (or maybe the rug is crooked) from when we haphazardly put it back after my last in-apartment performance. The apartment is _home_. I’m home here with Jihoon and it’s warm and good.

“I was thinking about painting the apartment—”

“I don’t know if the landlord will let us.” Jihoon cuts me off.

“Well if we can, what do you think about yellow?”

Jihoon looked around the living room with me—sunny warm hair, sunny warm skin and a sunny warm smile. “Yeah, yellow sounds good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my absolute fav thing about hoshi and woozi's irl, canon relationship (and also woozi and dk's but that's not the ship here) is how good hoshi is at knowing when woozi is protesting just for his image and when he's actually uncomfy with what's going on like hoshi's grasp on woozi's boundaries and when to push them just a little bit so woozi can have some fun is amazing and adorable


	4. a romantic interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vanity is a made-up drama and jimin is a made-up character in that made-up drama, we're not actually dragging anyone here  
> also i drop a few c-bombs in here if that bothers you

Thursdays were _Vanity_ days for me and Jihoon, had been ever since he caught the flu that one time. It was good for both of us, honestly. We both needed that commitment to not do anything and both of us really needed to chill more often.

We didn’t expect to be sucked into some stupid drama, though. _Vanity_ always bordered on ridiculous and ridiculously good. And I wasn’t a drama person really, never was. I don’t think Jihoon was either. It was just dumb luck that we stumbled upon a drama that we could both laugh at and poke fun at while actually still enjoying it most of the time. It’s in between seasons but they’re still showing reruns so me and Jihoon are still home on Thursdays.

Jihoon had pinked up his hair again recently, within the last week and it had been before I really knew him, before we moved in together since the last time I saw it anything other than blond. The pink was the exact same kind of adorable I remember from hazy parties but I get to appreciate it more now, sober and in bright sunlight and the warm glow of lamps or the TV instead of the shitty, party lighting. He’s on the couch with me in a soft yellow sweater and pale blue PJ pants which is a lot softer and _cuter_ than the grey sweats and oversized t-shirts from obscure companies he’s worked with and somehow got for free that I’m used to.

We’re both sharing a Totoro blanket that Jihoon brought to the apartment. I’m trying to lean into Jihoon (like normal, like always when we share the couch on Thursdays) but he seems rigid and far away. I wonder if it’s the outfit. I wonder if he’s feeling self-conscious and also why the hell he’s wearing it in the first place if it’s making him self-conscious. It looks comfy, though and he looks soft and cute. “I know I’ve already told you but the pink looks really good on you. I’m glad it’s back.”  

“It’s not for you.” He laughs. It almost feels normal, it’s just toeing that border but it’s still tense somehow.

It feels bad in a way that I don’t know what to do with. I was familiar (overly-familiar, so familiar, the goddamned king of familiarity) with Jihoon’s flustered defensiveness when it came to compliments. I knew that he’d try to curl his body in as much as possible or hide behind something and that his ears and cheeks would get red and his voice would get all squeaky and cutely border on annoying. His ears and cheeks are red but it’s not _fun_. He doesn’t seem like he’s having any fun, he just seems vaguely uncomfortable and it’s been so long since he was like that with me. So I press forward with plan A: just keep complimenting him until he relents. It’s never failed me before. “Also I’m loving the whole coordinated pastels look on you. It’s very soft, very cute.”

He makes a show of looking down at himself. “Oh, I didn’t even realize.” And it’s a _lie_. It’s so a lie. I’ve been with Jihoon long enough to recognize the tone he uses with companies to say that it’s fine to need the track earlier or to tell Mingyu that his last-minute cancellation is fine. It’s not subtle and it’s not rare.

I know that he’s lying but I have no idea why. I have no idea why he’s playing this up like it’s casual. It _is_ casual. It’s just _Vanity_ Thursday, we’ve had it for so long now. I don’t have a plan for the resigned, tight lies that Jihoon slips in with others. I’ve never had to. I’ve never noticed him lying with me before. So I do what I do with all problems and just ignore it. I could be misreading the situation. There’s absolutely no way I know Jihoon that well yet. He’s predictable but he’s not boring or one-dimensional.

I get back into a _Vanity_ episode that I’ve probably seen more times than I’ve seen Jihoon with pink hair. I’m so thankful for my usually shitty brain because minutes into the show I’ve forgotten that Jihoon lied to me (probably) about something that seems so not worth lying about. It’s season three of _Vanity_ which means it’s the season that Jimin shows up. Jimin was an absolute cunt of a character who served no goddamned purpose in the plot besides to keep the adorable lesbian couple apart for a little bit. Jihoon called Jimin a cunt first in the first episode she appeared in which lead to a half-hour long roast session between me and Jihoon that left Jihoon a crumpled little ball of giggles and sunshine on the couch (which was maybe my favorite part of _Vanity_ ever).

“Jimin is such a fucking cunt I am _so_ glad season three is over.” I say without even thinking. It’s almost a reflex to roast Jimin at this point.

Jihoon doesn’t say anything back and that reminds me that Jihoon is being weird, that he’s lying and being tense and he’s staying all the way on the other side of the couch and I really want his warmth and companionship again. “Hoonie, _what_ is up?” I finally ask.

Jihoon looks like a fucking bow-string on his side of the couch—tense to the point of snapping and uncomfortable. His face is scrunched up and his little hands are fisted into the blanket like it’s his only lifeline. His mouth gapes open for a second but nothing comes out before he snaps it closed again. It’s so fucking nerve-wracking, my stupid, shitty brain tossing out a bunch of reasons for Jihoon to look this serious and nervous—he wants me to back off, he’s finally sick of my shit, he hates me, he’s gonna move out. He hasn’t even said anything or made a move and I’m already feeling lonely, I’m already missing him. I already feel myself crumbling from the disappointment of failing this challenge.

His hands drop the blanket only to fist themselves into my shirt and his determined little face is pushing up into mine and he’s pulling me down by my shirt collar. He’s pursing his lips hard against mine and the kiss is hard in the wrong way and awkward but _adorable_. I’m already imagining myself lazily wandering my hands over him and watching him come apart. It’s fun being with someone who feels so small and inexperienced under my hands. I never really thought about Jihoon and sex in the same thought (nothing about him felt inherently sexy and he never did anything to make me think otherwise) but I’d probably predict exactly this if someone pressed me to—inexperienced, awkward and too cute for his own good.  

I’m enjoying the kiss, I’m absolutely willing to let it continue but Jihoon doesn’t even give me the chance to twine a hand in his hair and pull (a left-over from when I still slept with Jeonghan because he has a major hair-pulling thing) before he’s whipping his face away and clambering off the couch. I don’t even get to see him again before I hear his feet pittering down the hallway. “Okay,” he said tense and uncomfortable, squashing the word together, “good night.” It’s punctuated with the click of Jihoon’s door closing.

It’s such a foreign sound to me now that my brain takes a moment to grapple with what the noise could possibly be. Then I wallow in the disappointment and frustration of being cock-blocked (I was so getting into and he just fucking _left_ ). Then the whole thing hits me like a goddamned freight train (like it normally does) and my stomach twists and I physically wretch at the idea and if I’d been any less than 100% sober I probably would’ve vomited.

Jihoon kissed me. That was fine, that was good. It was fun, honestly. If Jihoon hadn’t slipped away into his room the couch would probably have a jizz stain on it now. What made my stomach turn was the tense air, the determination in his little face, the newly-pink hair, the cute pastel outfit. Jihoon wasn’t just here to fuck around.

I wasn’t drunk at some shitty party somewhere. I wasn’t trading cheesy lines and greasy winks with a TA that was probably half a decade older than me. I was sober in my own apartment with my roommate who _lived_ with me and gave me sunny smiles and went to my recitals and let me longue in his room and sometimes cooked for me. This wasn’t sloppy kisses and wandering hands and there was no slipping out before the sun rose, there was no agreement that we’d play this fast and loose and never get jealous or claim ownership.

Jihoon dressed the way I liked him, dyed his hair back to the color I constantly complimented, gathered up all of his courage and determination and shoved his little face into mine to kiss me because he wanted it to mean something. He was kissing me to convey _feelings_ , not to get his hand in my pants. And he was nervous about it and he had planned it out.

My stomach lurched again at the idea of feelings. I hadn’t had a kiss that was about _feelings_ since I graduated high school. And the idea of never being able to slip away before sunrise, of being trapped in my own house makes me feel claustrophobic.

I snatch my keys off the counter and hear the door click closed behind me and outside the apartment I finally feel like I can breathe again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoshi has commitment issues~ and woozi's bad with feelings~


	5. seoksoon talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is like aaaaallllll seoksoon with mentions of seokwan? (dk/seungkwan) and soonkwan? (hoshi/seungkwan)  
> like i know this is literally a soonhoon story but in my heart of hearts i'm really a seoksoon shipper

It wasn’t since Jeonghan had met Seungcheol, since Jeonghan had really sincerely gotten his life together and since I got over that fact and had gotten myself together too since I so desperately wanted hands on me, wanted any kind of contact. I wanted to wash Jihoon off of me. I wanted to forget the whole thing. I wanted a kiss that was just about contact and not feelings. Maybe I should’ve gotten fucked up first, to really wash the whole thing away but I couldn’t think about anything except _getting out_ before leaving the apartment. So I’m dead sober desperate for anyone—literally _anyone_ —to just touch me and not look at me with adoration or want or expectations.

Jeonghan wasn’t an option anymore. Obviously. I had to actually _get over_ that one. It took binge-drinking and other shitty coping mechanisms to get over the fact that I’d probably never have sex with Jeonghan again. To get over the fact that I’d never have what I had with Jeonghan—something fluid and undefined with no promises or hard rules—again. So no Jeonghan.

Chan obviously wasn’t an option either. Never really was to me (what was he? Like five or something? Was he even legal?). Hansol obviously wasn’t an option either but like even if he wasn’t with Chan he probably wouldn’t do anything with me. He never even seemed particularly fond of me, definitely not enough to indulge me with this shit. Kibum stopped answering my texts and playfully flirting with me at the studio after the one time we actually did fuck around at an after-party (which is some real bullshit because I’m a great lay and absolutely worth a reply text). Jun was still out of the country doing model shit (which really sucked because he was really looking like the best option). And Seungkwan was in social lock down to finish some big project and, honestly, I don’t think he’d humor my shit either.

So I was in front of Seokmin’s dorm. Which was where I usually was when I wasn’t at the apartment but really wasn’t where I was expecting to end up now. I had never fucked around with Seokmin before. I had never even thought about it. It wasn’t like I hated the idea. Seokmin was cute, all sharp features that were constantly complimented and he was my _soulmate_ —he always made me laugh the most, he always understood me the best, he was my absolute first choice for a roommate. I loved Seokmin and I knew he was cute and we both got fucked up at parties a lot but it just never happened. He was somewhere between the last option and the best one left though.

It’s a snap decision because I don’t want anything thought out or drawn out or anticipated and because I really could never make anything with Seokmin a big production. Either literally everything we ever did together (all our fake drama and in-jokes and sloppy, drunk behavior) was a big production or nothing was.

“Minnie!” I yell through his door, so he at least knows it’s a friend.

“On a _Thursday_?” Seokmin asks, pulling the door open and I guess he knows it’s me. Seokmin’s face is warm and his skin-tone is warm and inviting and I know his smile is warm (brilliant, blinding, sunshiney) and this will work. This’ll be fine.

I just put my hand firmly on his chest and back him up. He stumbles his way onto the couch and I climb into his lap and I’m not dominant. I’m not used to being dominant. I’m not used to pushing my partner around and taking what I wanted but I didn’t want to _talk_ (wasn’t sure I really could) and I couldn’t just tease and wait. I _needed_. The kiss is frantic and heated, my hands gripping Seokmin’s strong thighs to keep myself balanced. It’s not a bad kiss. Seokmin is responding without question, without talking which is exactly what I want from him, exactly I knew he would give me that no one else could. I’m breathless and struggling for air and I doubt it’s from the passion or anything, probably just from my own recklessness. I break from his lips to leave little butterfly kisses on his collarbone.

I try to really appreciated Seokmin and not think about anyone else (Jihoon). To not think about sunny, warm smiles and bright, flushed expressions. To not think about the rectangle of warm light in the hallway and the soft music coming from it. To not think about soft yellow carnations and bold yellow roses. To not think about a yellow living room bathed in sunlight that felt like home. To not think about _home_. Seokmin’s high cheekbones are pretty and the slope of his nose is elegant and the mole under his eye really defines _beauty_ mark.

I can work with this. I can kiss Seokmin and joke around with Seokmin and compliment him and go to shitty parties with him. I can arrange the same deal I had with Jeonghan with Seokmin instead. And I can move out with him and paint _our_ apartment yellow. And it’ll always feel like home and will never be cold or suffocating. I can just forget. I can _escape_.

“Are you _sober_?” Seokmin asks tentatively like he really doesn’t want to believe I am.

“Unfortunately.” I reply, pressing my lips firmly against his neck to dissuade him from asking me anything else.

“Is this like a… _confession_ or something?”

“No,” I groan, “no more confessions.”

“Awesome,” Seokmin finally responds, “because like honestly? I had a better time kissing Seungkwan.”

“Fuck you,” my pride is hardly hurt, though, “then I had a better time kissing Seungkwan too.” I stick my tongue out him.

He raises his eyebrows. “We both kissed Seungkwan?”

I just shrugged. Me and Seokmin both got around and tended to lower (or abandon) our standards when we were a little fucked up. It’s honestly some universal interference or a serious miracle that we never fucked around before this. And it only barely surprises me that we’ve both had a _thing_ with Seungkwan at some point.

“So, you wanna rewind a little bit and explain the ‘no _more_ confessions’ thing?” Seokmin slips in casually and I can’t believe that kissing him didn’t even throw him off.

“I don’t _want_ to, no.” Seokmin has always been way too perceptive for his own good. He always picked up on everything I hoped he would just brush past.

“That’s cool but you’re still gonna tell me.”

Seokmin understood me without words. He was my soulmate, he was the closest anyone ever was to me. Seokmin indulged my bad habits and was just as irresponsible as me and often goaded me into dumber shit than I’d pull on my own. If Seokmin was my only supervision during college I would’ve fucking _died_. But…if Seokmin wasn’t in my life at all I wouldn’t be a part-time choreographer at the studio. I wouldn’t have gotten to be a back-up dancer for Hoody. Seokmin was always the one that forced me into things I so desperately wanted to escape from. Seokmin was the one that confiscated my phone after my first audition so that I couldn’t ignore the call-back. Seokmin wouldn’t let me run from things that I really needed to face. And I hated it. But he was right and things were better because of him.

“So confessions?” Seokmin prompts, way too used to my bullshit to let me get away with not answering the question. “I’ll start you out, what could you have possibly done that was so awful it warranted a _confession_?”

“I’m not confessing anything here.”

"So who's confessing then?"

"Jihoon." I sigh. "Jihoon confessed. Well," I corrected, "he kissed me and then he ran out so like I guess it was close enough to a confession."

His confusion doesn't let up. "And your first thought was 'let’s go kiss Seokmin'?"

"Well, honestly it was 'let’s kiss anyone but Jihoon'."

Seokmin snorted. "I put all this effort into being your best friend and the only time you kiss me is because I'm your last option?"

"I'll kiss you more if you want." I offer.

"No," he stops me, "no more kissing, actually.”

“Rude!” I protest. I can’t believe I have to defend my track record of being a good lay more than once. It’s all Jihoon’s fault. This shit never happened before I met him. He must be spreading rumors. “I’m good at this!” I argue. “Jeonghan—fucking _Jeonghan_ with all his goddamned options—slept with me consistently for like a year!”

Seokmin snorted. “Sore spot?”

I pouted and felt childish and not frantic or messy or like I was suffocating anymore. Seokmin helped—not in the way I thought he would—but I felt better. “You’re being very mean, Minnie.”

“You’re being a goddamned baby and you know it.” He sighs. “Why do you hate the idea of Jihoon liking you so much? It’s not like he has cooties or anything.”

“I don’t wanna _live_ with someone who likes me. I wanna be able to…” I trailed off. I wanted to be able to do anything else. I wanted to be able to _escape_.

“You wanna be able to run away? You wanna be able to blame it on the alcohol? You wanna be able to never have to have a real, serious conversation about your feelings? Huh? You wanna pretend that you can do the friends with benefits, fucking around at parties, no strings attached thing forever?” He pressed.

“I’m only twenty-one!” I argue. “I’m not some fucking spinstress, I don’t _need_ to do anything else yet.”

“You don’t need to be _avoiding_ it either.” He pointed out.

And, yeah, Seokmin had me backed into a corner. I was avoiding it. I was avoiding anything that I had to commit to, anything that I couldn’t escape so easily. Like I always did. But this was more than a part-time gig at the studio, more than one or two performances with a big-name artist. I had no idea when this would end, no easy way to just get out, to be done. “What if he’s the last person I kiss, though?” I finally say in a small voice I’m not proud of.

Seokmin huffs out something that might be a half-hearted laugh. “What if you get hit by a car on the way back home and _I’m_ the last person you kiss?” He proposes.

“That’s like…the opposite of helping.”

“I’m just trying to say, shit happens, sometimes you gotta take a gamble.”

“Who says I even wanna kiss Jihoon?” I argue childishly. I’m not sure, though. I’m really not sure if I wanna kiss Jihoon (I do want to kiss him but with the weight of maybe _only_ kissing him for a while I’m not sure if it’s worth it). The kissing is fine and all but the feelings were muddled at best. I associated Jihoon with home and the color yellow and having to pry the sunniest little smiles out of him but I didn’t know what that even _meant_ in terms of relationships.

“So all the shit you did for Jihoon was just for funsies?” He pressed. “All the compliments? All the back hugs? All the ‘Jihoon please come to my recital’? All the ‘Jihoon, you’re so cute. Jihoon, your music is so good’? Fucking babying him when he had the flu and then falling asleep in _his bed_?”

“How do you even know about that?” I whined.

“Jihoon texts Jeonghan every time you do something like that and then Jeonghan always texts me about because Seungcheol put a ban on Jihoon talk and he obviously can’t tell you about it and what’s the point of having the gossip if you can’t share it with anyone?”

“Jihoon’s just making it sound like a lot. It’s the same stuff I do with everyone. I’m just like that, you know?” I defend.

“You’re not.” Seokmin laughs. “You’re not like that with me or Chan or Seungkwan. You’re different with Jihoon.”

I’m only different with Jihoon because _Jihoon_ is different. Jihoon blushes all cute at my compliments and no one else does. And Jihoon buys me flowers after recitals. And Jihoon expanded his boundaries to include all my touchiness. And Jihoon would open up just the tiniest bit more with me every time I pried. And Jihoon…Jihoon didn’t treat me like a friend. Jihoon treated me like a lover, like a significant other, like a _boyfriend_. And I thrived off of that. I kept trying to pry him open a tiny bit more to get to the Jihoon only I could have and to get treatment Jihoon would give only me. “Oh,” I manage.

“Oh?” He mocks.

“I’m maybe figuring things out.”

“You’re figuring things out _now_?” For how observant Seokmin was and how close we are, he really should’ve realized that I’m a short-sighted dumbass by now. “You’re figuring this out now? And not when you were doing all this sweet shit with Jihoon? Not all the hugs or cuddling on the couch or all the compliments? What the fuck _were_ you doing then?”

“I don’t know! Being friends? Getting on his good side?”

“What the fuck did you expect Jihoon to do with all that?” He challenged.

“Be! Friends!” Seokmin was pushing me because he needed to but I felt pushed into a corner and I was lashing out a little bit. “I was expecting him to just be friends with me! I didn’t expect any of this!”

“So you thought Jihoon was just not gonna react to any of this…” He said sarcastically. “Oh my god! You did! You did all this because you thought Jihoon was _safe_. You thought you could just do whatever you wanted with Jihoon and he wouldn’t react and you could play cutesy little boyfriend all you want without actually having to commit to anything.”

I really didn’t think that far ahead. I mean…maybe subconsciously. Maybe without really thinking it through I did things with Jihoon that I wouldn’t do with anyone else because it felt _different_ with Jihoon. I never once thought he was safe or thought I was trying to play out some fake, almost-relationship with him.

“That’s pretty fucked up, Soonyoung. Like…he’s a _person_.”

“I didn’t mean…” My heart throbbed with guilt. None of this was meant at all. “When I first met Jihoon we both agreed that we weren’t looking for relationships and I figured it’d just stay like that.” I explained.

“It could’ve. You could’ve just left him alone.”

“I just wanted him to talk to me.” I whined.

“But you kept pushing.” He argued. “You guys were talking but you kept seeing how far you could push his boundaries.”

I just sighed. Fine. Sure. I did. I loved every new thing I discovered about Jihoon. I kept pushing because it was a rush and because it was fun. And maybe I should’ve totally seen this whole thing coming.

“You really gotta go talk to him, Soonyoung.” Seokmin was soft with me again, letting me lean into him and keeping his voice low.

“He was the one that ran away from me.” I tried.

“You ran further away, though.”

I pushed all the weight I could into his side and nuzzled into his shoulder. I don’t think I had ever properly appreciated how warm and sturdy Seokmin was until now. “Later?” I pleaded, making puppy dog eyes at him.

“I’ll give you a whole ‘nother hour of running away from your problems.” He bargained, not swayed at all by my charms.

“A whole other hour and another kiss?” Kissing Seokmin still wasn’t my favorite, wasn’t even particularly good. But he was warm and familiar and radiating comfort and I still felt touchy and needy and I really needed something sweet after Seokmin fucking ripping me apart like that.  

“Fine.” He conceded. “I’ll even drive you home.”

I pulled his face down for a quick and chaste kiss, probably the last time I’d ever kiss Seokmin. It was fine, though, because he still let me sprawl out on his lap or curl around him or nestle myself under his arm and that’s where I’d really rather be anyway.

Seokmin was tying his shoes, ready to usher me out when he started asking me questions again. “You really wanted me to be your last kiss before you sort this shit out with Jihoon?” He asked, preening under the distinction.

“I mean if I had my pick of _anyone_?” I clarified.

“Sure.”

“I’d definitely pick Jeonghan then.” I teased.

He shoved me off the couch and right before we both left the dorm Seokmin stopped me. “You really gotta stop running away from stuff, Soonie.” He pushed my bangs back and kissed my forehead so tenderly that my whole face lit up red. He smiled at my reaction. “Last one.” He promised. “For good luck.”

I nodded and was thankful for the breeze outside cooling my cheeks down. “Thanks.” I mumbled.

“You got yourself into some real shit this time. Feelings and all.” He whistled.

“I know.” I sighed, kicking at a stray rock.

“You’ll be fine.” He assured. “It’s not as scary as it seems.”

I let my eyes wander a trail over the stars. I never learned the constellations and I couldn’t pick out anything that meant anything. One blinked slowly, comfortingly, across the sky and I guess it was a plane or something. I still wished on it, though—wished that the whole thing would go smoothly, that I could talk to Jihoon without retching, that I could maybe be a real adult about feelings for once. I thought of sunny smiles and the color yellow and _home_ to remind myself that it really was worth it. Jihoon really was worth all of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing this just made me wanna cuddle with dk lol


	6. soft and yellow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took foreeeeeeveeeeeeer to write bc i never had the last chapter planned out and i always plan stuff out before i start it  
> also mentions of one-sided jihan in here (everyone is in love with jeonghan bc i'm in love with jeonghan)

The apartment was mostly dark and silent and it did next to nothing to calm my frantic heartbeat. I half wished that Jihoon had just fallen asleep. But it was only like eight and I really, really should talk to him. I could see the light flooding out from under Jihoon’s door in the hallway and it had been _so_ fucking long. It’d been so long since things were like this. With Jihoon all shut away and me nervous and miserable and that stupid fucking door being a bigger obstacle than it should’ve been.

I stop outside Jihoon’s closed door because it’s _scary_ again. I no longer feel the unspoken invitation to just open it and walk in. The whole thing is different and all the rules have changed and the atmosphere is suffocating and I’m remembering why I ran out of the apartment in the first place. I rest my hand on the doorknob but don’t turn it, I don’t feel like I have permission anymore. “Hoonie,” I call through the door, soft, desperate and almost whiny.

It’s still silent on the other side. I can picture him, curled up on his bed trying to pay attention to something on his phone or desperately trying to feel productive by working on some track. I can imagine that one really well actually, him clicking around on the same bit of song, moving it back and forth, blocking me out with his expensive headphones.

Seokmin was right, unfortunately. It was less scary than I thought it’d be. It’s only less scary because I kept replaying Jihoon’s determined, nervous little face, though. Jihoon was nervous. Jihoon was so nervous he ran away. We both ran away and it’s a tiny, little bit easier to face this thing head-on knowing that I wasn’t the only dumb idiot having a hard time with it. “Hoonie, we really need to talk.” I called a little more forcefully.

The door swung open silently and Jihoon was already bundled back up in his blanket on his bed like nothing had disturbed him by the time I see him. I couldn’t see his hands but I knew that they had to be occupied with something with all the nervous energy he was radiating.

“We should talk.” I repeated softly.

“I heard.” He was somewhere between adorably grumpy and resigned. I guess he hadn’t thought past step one.

I mean I hadn’t either. I had no idea what I was going to say to Jihoon. I only knew that I agreed with Seokmin to come talk to him. So I open my mouth and my brain has totally blanked out and I just hope _something_ comes out. “So, I kissed Minnie.” Ok, something was accomplished but it was a pretty shitty something.

“Oh,” Jihoon lets out, small and sad and I can _see_ a shift in his eyes that looks like something crumbling.

“No,” I start.

His eyes harden back up and he pulls his limbs in towards him like a barrier. “If you’re gonna reject me just fucking do it.” He hisses. “And don’t be a dick about it, I still pay for half this fucking place.”

I’ve never had Jihoon’s venom directed at me before. It burns as bad as any real injury I’ve sustained and I’m stunned for a moment. “No,” I try again, forcing the words out faster this time, “kissing Minnie was a mistake. I shouldn’t—I _really_ shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have even left the apartment. We should’ve had this talk like two hours ago.”

“I don’t think we really need to be having this talk at all. I get it already.” His voice is still hard and sharp and his eyes are bloodshot. No, fuck, they’re red-rimmed. He’s been crying. Fuck. Fuck, I’m the worst.

“Hoonie,” I say softly, sweetly, taking just a step closer. “I’m not rejecting you. I wanna talk because I want to know what you want from me. I want to make you as happy as possible.”

His body uncurls and his face blooms pink and he hiccups out one little sob. “Then just come here and don’t make me talk about it.”

“We really should talk about it, sweetheart.” I finally sit down on his bed and run my hand soothingly over his back. “What do you want from me?”

He shoves his face further into the blanket. “Look, I know you hate relationships, Jeonghan told me all about that so it really doesn’t matter what I want—”

“It does,” I cut him off, “it _really_ matters what you want. I think that matters like _the_ most.”

“But like I’m doing this _with_ you. I want _you_.” He argues weakly.

I walk gentle fingers up a path on his spine. “But here’s the thing, baby,” I start, “you deserve what you want.”

“Maybe I don’t want a relationship. Maybe I just wanna kiss you.” I can feel him melt into the bed under my touch and I’m so glad he’s more relaxed.

“Well,” I draw the word out, “if you just wanted to kiss me, you could’ve done that when we first met. Actually, we probably would’ve gotten to a lot more than kissing if that’s what you want.”

The blood rushed to his cheeks and ears. “I didn’t wanna kiss you back then! You were annoying…and a dumbass!”

I really, really wanted to remind that I still was—that the only thing time had done was expose him to how much of an annoying dumbass I really was—but it’s probably the wrong time. “If it’s my personality you’re worried about I think you want more than something physical, babe.”

His skin prickled at the petname and I made note of that for some other time. “ _Friends_ who kiss sometimes?” He adjusted.

“And live together? And cuddle on the couch? And pick out furniture together? And buy each other flowers? Baby, that’s just a _relationship_.”

“Fine.” He huffed. “Fine, I wanted a relationship. I wanted a relationship with you and I’d kinda settle for whatever because I know that you don’t do relationships. You wouldn’t even do a relationship with _Jeonghan_ who is like the hottest person I’ll literally ever meet so I knew you wouldn’t with me. So the whole thing was kinda hopeless but I figured I might as well kiss you once just for fuck’s sake anyway.”

I curled as much of my body around him as I can while still being able to look at him. “I’m not gonna make you settle.” I say quietly.

“What?” His voice is soft finally too.

“I’m not gonna make you settle.” I reaffirm. “You deserve a relationship. You deserve whatever you want. You deserve someone who’s devoted to you. You deserve a boyfriend.” I kind of choke on the word as it leaves my mouth. I haven’t been a boyfriend in a _long_ time. And I’ve never, _never_ described myself as a “boyfriend.” Jihoon deserves it, though. He really does. “I didn’t wanna do a relationship with Jeonghan because it was Jeonghan but this is you and I want _you_.”

 Jihoon pulls me down for a rushed and bruising kiss. I can still _taste_ the inexperience on him. I slow the kiss down for him, let it be soft, gentle, exploratory. I push my fingers into his hair and card through it gently (not pulling, not this time, I’ll figure that one out later) and pull one of his hands from its place in my shirt to thread our fingers together. I don’t want him to feel rushed, to feel pressured, to feel like he only gets one shot at this. I want him to melt against me.

“I want that.” He breathes against my mouth. “I want _you_ too.”

And I can’t stop smiling, my heart feels like it’s exploded in my chest, my brain’s slow and dopey and happy. Jihoon is so cute, pressed against me, wrapped up in his blanket and his words are so sincere and heavy in the silence of the apartment. “I can’t believe you thought Jeonghan would be better than this—better than you, baby.” I whisper.

Jihoon smiles too but it’s still shy and bashful. I imagine for a second what Jihoon will be like months from now, maybe even a year from now, when all the nervousness and apprehension leaks from him and we’re just comfortable with each other. I wonder if he’ll be flippant and demanding like Jeonghan or easy going and caring like Seungcheol or something else entirely. He softens back up and nuzzles his face into my chest. “I never imagined this going good.” He laughed. “I just imagined you rejecting me. I only planned for the worst, you know?”

It’s so good—a whole new kind of good—to be able to see that defeated misery on Jihoon’s face and  be able to definitively do something about it. To not have to stumble over words I always fuck up. To just have the answer. I kiss the top of Jihoon’s head, his cheek, his nose, getting him to remove his face from my chest so I can leave one last peck on his lips. “It went fine, pretty good, I think.” I tell him.

Jihoon is giggling softly and I haven’t said anything funny really, it’s just relief. It’s relief flooding through his tiny, little body like it’s only just figured out that things have gone well. He’s relaxed happily into the bed, relaxed happily into _me_. I try to get under the blanket with Jihoon, his bed is too small for me but if I keep my body wrapped around him it’s a decent fit. I stroke through his hair for a while and like the spiteful little cat he usually is, he’s also a pliant little kitten and he loves it.

“Hey, Hoonie,” I say after a few beats of silence. He hums in return, still soft and content. “It’s been like a really, really long time since I’ve done a relationship.”

He just snorts into my shirt. “I haven’t been in one like…ever.” He laughs to himself. “Back before when—” He cuts himself off. “Never mind, it’s dumb.”

“You _gotta_ tell me now.” I whine. “It sounds like something juicy.” 

He pushes at my chest weakly and sighs. “Back before Jeonghan met Seungcheol and you two were still doing your…thing,” he says the word like he’s trivializing it which is fair, I guess, it was at best a _thing_ , the most trivial kind of relationship, “I was doing my thing where I was babysitting Jeonghan at a party. And I was drinking, which is usually not a part of babysitting and I was a little more fucked up than I intended to be and when we were walking home I tried to kiss Jeonghan.” His voice dropped down to a bashful little whisper. “He stopped me, though, said something about not wanting to take advantage of me or something and I, uh, never tried again.”

“That’s fucked up.” I say almost without thinking. “I mean, we weren’t exclusive or anything, he could’ve at _least_ kissed you.”

He smiles at me fondly like I’m an idiot. I am. “No, it was for the best. I wouldn’t have been able to just fuck around with Jeonghan and leave. I was attached and I knew he wouldn’t be but I still went for it.”

“But you were literally just like ‘we can just fuck around, Soonyoung, nbd.’ How many times have you done this?”

“I told you I’m new at this.” He pushed at my chest with more force, burying his face at the same time. “I spent a lot of time chasing after things I knew I couldn’t have. I don’t really know what to do with what I _can_ have.”

“We’ll figure it out.” I say and it sounds non-committal but I’ve got a billion possibilities stretched out in front of me. A million parts of Jihoon I’ve never seen, skin and sounds and expressions to explore. A million more nights and days and mornings and Jihoon’s face lit up in all the types of light I can imagine. A million more conversations and move nights and _Vanity_ Thursdays and recitals. A million more milestones and birthdays and anniversaries and performances and a million more bouquets to go with them. I’ve got—we’ve got—a whole lot ahead of us and I can imagine myself doing it all with Jihoon and I don’t feel trapped or like I’m suffocating. It’s fine. It’s good. It’s _wonderful_. “Can I stay here tonight?” I ask as more of a formality.

“Sure.” He offers.

I hop up to flick the lights on and settle myself behind Jihoon when I get back to his bed. I wrap my hands around his hips to pull him flush against me (I only marvel at how _easily_ my hands fit around his _whole_ waist for a moment) and his whole body tenses, a cute little whine escaping his mouth. His whole face is red and he looks like he’s trying to actually bury himself in the bed. “What—?”

“Another time.” He cuts me off shortly.

I soothe my hand down his side and immediately know I’ve found something that’ll be fun later. Later, though. “Another time, yeah.” I let us settle into a comfortable silence and Jihoon is nice to curl around, like a stuffed animal but better. “Hey,” I start again. Jihoon hums again but there’s a tinge of annoyance this time. “If I got a bigger bed would you wanna sleep in my room instead?”

“Like the time you wanted to paint the living room?” He snorted.

“You never told me if I could paint the living room or not.” I defend.

“You wouldn’t have done it anyway!”

“Getting a bed is so much easier.” I whine. “So would you?”

“What if I don’t wanna sleep with you every night?”

“You can keep your bed in here still. We can make it like a studio…with a bed.”

He laughed and rolled the idea around in his head. “Fine. Sure.” He relented. “If you get a bed.”

I tucked my hand around his waist and keep him close and snuggle into his neck. He’s still wearing the soft, yellow sweater and it feels good under my hands. “I will.” I say. It’s a promise. Really. A promise of something at least, maybe not the bed. I’ll get the bed and we’ll paint the place yellow. Maybe not this place, maybe another one. I’m thinking years down the road and it’s so foreign but it feels good, to have some kind of tangible future.

I think about Jihoon bathed in soft, yellow sunlight. His soft, yellow sweater. Soft, yellow flowers. A soft, yellow living room. Yeah, the future seemed pretty. Really pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not to be cheesy or anything but big shout out to you guys! i never write long stuff, i never write multi-chaptered stuff (i usually won't even READ a fic if it's 10+k) and i literally never thought i would but you guys are the reason this got finished and you guys are absolutely ABSOLUTELY the reason it was so much fun to finish! so like...hearts for you guys <333333


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